Know When to Hold Them
by cookieemonsterr4
Summary: For six years, Katniss mentored her tributes. For six years, she watched her tributes die. What would make the 81st Hunger Games any different? Besides Effie's hair color, anyway. AU
1. Chapter 1

**AN: In a canon world (spoilers, guys, duh), Katniss and Peeta won the 74****th**** games, then went back for the quarter quell, then there was a rebellion. But what if there was no uprising? What if that wasn't the Quarter Quell was something else entirely and not meant to kill off the Victors? Well I thought it might go a bit like this.**

Chapter One: The Reaping of the 81st Annual Hunger Games

Reaping day was _not_ Katniss Everdeen's favorite day of the year. In fact, it basically sucked even more now that she was a Victor and not just another possible tribute for these horrid games.

Before she won, just seven years ago when she put it all in prospective, she would go home after the names were picked and, while she might have known who was going to die, her life continued on. Nowadays, she had to sit on the stage—instead of in the crowd—and she had to go to The Capitol every year—even though Effie hadn't picked her name in the 2556 days since she first volunteered.

This year, Prim was out of the running but Gale's youngest brother, Vick, and little sister Posy were still ripe for the picking. Vick was seventeen now, so close to finally being done, and Posy was thirteen. Katniss wasn't sure what she would do if Effie happened to pick either of their names. They didn't have anyone to volunteer for them.

"Welcome…" Effie started and Katniss immediately drowned out her voice. There were more important things to ponder than sitting there listening to the same spiel given every year.

The first year, Katniss really tried to put on a brave face—she thought that if she could just guide her tributes well enough that one of them could make it home alive. Well, that was the biggest load of bullshit she ever told herself.

That year, the first year she was a mentor, was the quarter quell and Panam be damned if it wasn't brutal. Each district gave five tributes (two boys, two girls, and one at random) who were dropped into a barren cornfield of an arena. That was bad enough but then came the real kicker, no weapons were given until twenty six tributes died. After the first twenty six were scooped up, a feast of small knives and brass knuckles was served at the cornucopia. That resulted in another blood bath that killed twelve tributes. Then, to top things off, once it was down to the last fifteen tributes (the other seven having been killed in the week following the first feast) the game makers let loose a small hoard of mutts. They were nothing like the mutts that came after Katniss and Peeta the year before—these were three headed dogs and polar bears with foaming mouths and razor sharp teeth. The mutts tore six tributes apart, left a mark on an additional two, and did their real job of rounding up the kiddies. The two that were bitten by the mutts quickly succumbed to illness from infection (and rabies if Katniss was to venture a guess). The seven left were all within a half mile radius of the cornucopia and, soon enough, the careers began picking them off. Soon it was down to five and that was when the career alliance dismantled. Overnight it fell to three tributes and just two days later they had a victor—a girl from one named Finch who clawed the eyes out of the boy from two that was left.

So _maybe_ it wouldn't have been so bad if her tributes could have gotten their hands on some better weapons, or secured some better sponsors, or out ran those damn mutts. Maybe if they had done that they would have stood at least a slim chance (though by the end Finch had truly gone mad—her _artwork_ on Yuri's face was evidence enough of her state of mind) but that didn't happen. Nope not even a little, not even at all.

The first year that Katniss Everdeen was a mentor for the Hunger Games, all of her tributes died in the blood bath on the first day. What a way to break your spirits, huh?

She spent the next month in the Capitol getting wasted with Haymitch and watching other kids (some older than her, others younger) slaughter each other with rocks, strangle each other with the straps of a back pack, and, her absolute _favorite_, watch a deranged teenager scratch the eyes of her opponents out. Yeah, that was a _great_ year.

The next year wasn't much better (one of her tributes made it a week and two days… before he died of starvation). Nor was the next (another year that the blood bath won out).

Her fourth year as mentor was when she really started to lose hope. That year her tributes were both fourteen and both from the Seam. The pair of them were nothing special and the fact that they had spent their whole lives starving really showed on their frail bodies. The boy died in the blood bath, the girl died seven hours later at the hands of a career from District Two.

Her fifth year she gave it her best shot and both her tributes survived the bloodbath. Two days later Mina was drowned by a girl from seven (who went on to win the games). A week and five days later, Geo had a sword put through his chest. His ten day stint in the arena was her record—that was the longest she could keep a tribute alive for.

The next year was nothing special, another take down at the bloodbath.

Overall, she had watched fifteen children die. She, Katniss Everdeen, had brought _fifteen _children to their deaths.

When she first started out, she and Peeta really gave it their all. They told the kids exactly what they needed to do to survive and, clearly, that didn't work. Eventually, Katniss just couldn't bring herself to give the lost children more hope than they could really count on. They knew as well as she did that they were rather doomed.

Peeta kept up his spirits though, he didn't drink with Katniss and Haymitch after the tributes went to sleep nor did he indulge when the tributes were gone. He tried to get them sponsors but most of them were dead before the fighting was even over. He had stamina though, and Katniss envied him for that. Fifteen dead kids later (all their names forever engrained in her mind) and Katniss wasn't even sure if she could make it all the way to the Capitol without giving up hope on her tributes.

Each year just added two more sets of parents to the list of people she had let down. Each year brought about the reminder that she couldn't save them all.

She had developed her coping mechanisms, most of which her district and probably the Capitol would frown upon, but it kept her sane enough to not start an uprising.

"Ladies first" Effie said before dropping her hand into the fishbowl of slips. Looks like that well-rehersed and memorized spiel was done. Time to see who she was leading to their death this year.

Finally her red painted nails settled on one and the little card was pulled out. "Posy Hawthorne"

Seriously? Was Katniss's luck _really_ that bad?

Well, of course it was! She defied the Capitol, she deserved to watch her best friend's little sister die. That's what the little voice of Snow in her head was telling her. Another voice was just screaming that she really needed to avoid mirrors and ladders… and find a few four leaf clovers, a lucky rabbit, and maybe some more alcohol.

Correction, definitely more alcohol.

The Peacekeepers were escorting the slight girl to the stage—the crowd silent save for Hazelle's sobs and Vick's pleading from somewhere within the masses. Once Posy was on stage, Effie did as procedure dictated and asked if there were any volunteers.

"I volunteer" said an unwavering voice from the crowd. The girl who spoke—clearly very close to being old enough to never worry about the reaping again—made her way out to the aisle. Once she was there she turned and nodded ever so slightly at the Hawthorne clan. Gale returned the gesture just as minutely.

Katniss had seen her before—who hadn't?—but never took her as the 'volunteering for the Hunger Games in place of a stranger' type.

The girl, Paige? Penny? Permanganate? Polly?, had auburn hair and light green eyes that stood out among the crowd even before she began walking down the center aisle. She walked with a certain poise that even Katniss had to give her props for, the girl was walking to her death with her head held high.

As she walked to the stage, Katniss heard the whispers and couldn't help but think the same—why on Earth had this girl volunteered?

Posy had been led—pulled—off the stage by two burly peacekeepers once the volunteer's feet hit the bottom step leading up to the stage, as was the standard procedure for volunteer instances. The young girl looked at the red head with a look of gratitude mixed with remorse—Posy knew what the other girl was giving up by sparing her.

"District Twelve's second volunteer! How exciting! Now, what is your name dear?" Effie asked with her usual tact (meaning none).

The girl smiled and leaned in towards the microphone before speaking, without so much as a quake in her voice, just two words: Percy Gallagher. Whoops, guess Permanganate was a _little_ off.

Hearing the name brought to mind just a couple of thoughts. Number one; her mother was Winnie Gallagher who was known throughout the district for being off her rocker and prone to bursts of madness. Number two; she didn't have a father… or rather she did but he was most certainly not in the picture. Number three; Percy had no connection to the Hawthorne family that Katniss knew of. And number four; this girl was doing a pretty god job of hiding the fear that was most certainly going through her.

"And that most certainly was _not_ a sibling of yours" Effie said, winking at the crowd and tossing a look over her shoulder at Katniss, which just made her blush ever so slightly. What she would do to not be sitting on the stage right now.

"So tell us, dear, why ever did you volunteer?" Effie blinked her sparkle encrusted lilac eye lashes in anticipation. No one in District 12 had volunteered since Katniss had for Prim, nor had they before.

Percy thought about her response for a moment before throwing a charming smile that rivaled the rehearsed showmanship of a career at the cameras. With an expression devoid of fear and a voice just as stoic, the daughter of the District crazy gave her answer

"Why, for the honor—the _glory_—of course"

Right then, Katniss knew that this girl wasn't just another kid from the Seam that was going to perish in a mist of blood and gore. This girl was a player, and the game had already started.

**AN: I always wondered what would happen if Katniss had to mentor and watch these children die every year. Obviously it would pick away at her confidence in saving any of them and that's kind of where this story is based—in a Panam where no one rebelled, where the people sat back an continued to take the pain. Don't worry about the OC, she's basically the tribute that Katniss needs. I'm not saying this will have a few side stories entwined with some characters I'm sure everyone loves, but I'm not saying it wont.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Sorry for taking forever to update, I just finished finals and made it home for break so hopefully I'll be able to update more before heading back. I also want to thanks everyone who has read this story and especially those who have reviewed, you guys seriously make my day. Anyway, happy holidays and I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

Chapter Two: Capitol Bound

If you would have asked Peeta Mellark what his life would be like, say, eight years ago, he would have told you something vastly different then the horror story it has become. Maybe he would have taken over the family business for his Pops, the old man was getting tired in his age, or hell, maybe he would have even carried on a full conversation with a girl who wasn't completely incompetent. Okay, so maybe Delly wasn't completely incompetent but still, a girl with fractionally more intelligence than a spoon would be nice.

It wasn't like Peeta was shooting for the moon. Never once did he think that he would be picked for the Hunger Games, tell a girl he hardly knew that he loved her, win the games with aforementioned girl, continue to very publicly date that girl, and all the while watching kids he had watched grow up walk straight to their deaths.

Nope, that one sure was a shocker.

To be exceedingly specific, he had never pictured himself sitting with Katniss Everdeen on a Capitol bound train with two kids he would probably accompany back in boxes. Oh the perks of being a victor!

"Hey Peeta," the boy, fifteen years old, precisely at the median reaping qualification age, asked from the other side of the table. For being a clearly malnourished and underprivileged kid, the boy wasn't letting this whole ordeal get him down.

"Yeah Jax, what is it?" he said with a perfectly mastered fake smile. Peeta worked hard to make these kids not give up before they even got into the arena. Katniss wasn't much help. The first few years, she was perfect—told them what they needed to hear, the best ways to survive—but after watching a pair of fourteen year olds from the Seam that she had literally grown up with, the Katniss that could help these kids died.

"All this food, it's just for us? Just the six of us?" He seemed quite unsure of the sweets and platters set out by the Avoxes just prior to their boarding the train. Even despite his scrawny frame, Jax wasn't jumping to eat the surplus of food on the table. Unconsciously, Peeta noticed that the table had been replaced for the third time since his first time boarding as a tribute. The first time, Effie had it replaced after Haymitch stabbed it, the second was actually during the victory tour after Katniss accidently lit it on fire, and the third time the table had been damaged had been three years ago—one of the tributes (Sal, a boy from town who had lived a few streets over from Peeta as a child) has smashed a bottle of red over the side of the table. Effie hadn't known about that one for a while, the scratches edge of the table from the broken glass somehow escaping her knowledge. He supposed that she had finally noticed.

Peeta nodded at the boy, mentioning that he needn't bother waiting for Effie to start eating. The Capitol escort was currently handling a hair "emergency" in her quarters. Apparently, her wig had ended up red rather than magenta, a tragedy of the highest caliber—clearly.

"You sure she won't mind?" Jax asked as he stabbed a piece of salmon on the center plate and brought it to his own plate. He was a nice enough kid, Peeta would be sad to watch him die in just a few short days.

"I'm sure Effie won't give two—" Haymitch didn't finish his sentence before the now pink haired Effie Trinket made her entrance. Thank the lord she had managed to get that wig pink, Peeta was concerned that the world would end if she hadn't.

"Tisk tisk, you tributes have had deplorable manners the past few years and oh my, what a lovely spread! The Capitol provides so much for you tributes, such hospitality! Katniss, dear, pass the cranberries" Effie turned her feather eyelash accentuated eyes to the tributes across from her.

Jax was eating a bit of everything from the table, especially favoring the smoked salmon he had started with. In contrast, Percy had taken only steak and a bowl of salad without dressing. Peeta could already tell that Effie was not impressed with Jax. He couldn't tell what she thought of the female tribute though, actually he wasn't even sure of what he thought of her.

"The Capitol always cares for their tributes, Miss Trinket, it is truly an honor to be treated so graciously" the smile Effie gave Percy let him know exactly what Effie thought of the girl. This girl was exactly the tribute Effie had dreamed of escorting, a Capitol loving, games endorsing, Career tribute in every way except district. Effie could over look the District 12 aspect of Percy's upbringing if the girl was truly as talented as she was stoic.

Looking at the girl's rather slight frame, Peeta doubted that she could actually pull out a victory. Katniss had said that she didn't know anything about the girl, that she had spent a few nights on the couch in her new victor's house after Prim or her mom stitched the red head up. His fellow victor said that she had never talked to the girl but that Prim had asked her to try her hardest to help this girl. Of course, Prim asked this same thing every year, it was in her nature.

Despite her slim appearance and the likelihood of her doom, Peeta could see a fire in her eyes that made him question if maybe, just maybe, he could bring back a living tribute this time. He wasn't too hopeful but that little glimmer of a chance gave him something to hold on to. There hadn't been a single tribute he had much hope for, not even Geo and his ten days in the arena, so he wasn't putting much faith into Percy Gallagher—just a little bit, enough light to brighten the doom and gloom of the Games, for a few minutes at least.

"Finally a tribute that understands the _consideration_ of the Capitol, marvelous!" Effie exclaimed and raised her glass of wine in excitement. Percy smiled brightly at Effie but when her eyes met Katniss's across the table, Peeta could have sworn he saw her smirk ever so slightly.

"You should eat more, girlie" Haymitch piped in, surprising everyone at the table. For the past seven years, the elder victor had not been much help to a single one of the tributes they had escorted to their death. He hadn't told them what to do when the games started, the best way to survive, how to get sponsors. Nada. His interest in this one's desire to not eat her veggies was surprising.

Percy stabbed a head of broccoli and stuffed it in her mouth, a firm glare locked on Haymitch as she did so.

"I don't mean to tell ya how to play the games, Perce, but you should save that glare for the other tributes. Freeze them to death" Jax said with a smile to his fellow tribute. Percy dropped the glare and patted the younger boys arm before eating more of the steak she had cut.

This year was going to be different, Peeta was going to care when his tributes died. That was something he hadn't done in a long, long time—it was how he dealt with being a mentor, figured it was more conducive than Katniss and Haymitch's approach.

Hours later, when it was just he and Katniss sitting in the living quarters of the train—the rest of dinner went quietly, what did they really have to talk about? The weather is great, perfect to die in? I heard Snow hired a new Game Maker this year, all the better to kill you with? All were really _great _ talking points—he figured he would get her input on their tributes.

"The boy has stamina, don't you think?" Peeta said as he poured a glass of whiskey for Katniss. She quietly thanked him as he handed the amber liquid to her.

"He doesn't have a chance Peeta, you and I both know it. Difference is I've already accepted it," she said, tipping the glass slightly towards him.

He laughed a bit at her before lifting her feet and sitting down at the other end of the couch

"You're such a downer Katniss" he said and smiled at her she finished off her drink. Quite honestly, Peeta wasn't sure how she could drink it—the stuff burned like hell going down.

"And you, Mr. Mellark, are ever the optimist. I think that's why they all love us so much, because of you. You put on a brilliant show" she said and leaned over to kiss his cheek before picking herself up off the couch and setting her glass on the table in front of them. She had that look in her eyes, the one that he knew now was the only proof that she still cared about these children they led to the slaughter.

"Well, I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning and," she pointed an accusatory finger at him "if you wake me up before then I won't hesitate in putting an arrow through your chest"

"Goodnight, Katniss" he said, brushing off her threat as empty. Once upon a time her words would have scared him. That time had passed, now it was just comical to him.

"Goodnight, Peeta." She took a few steps towards the door "And Peeta," her voice sounded unsure

"What's on your mind?" he asked with his usual comforting smile.

"You know what, never mind. Just thanks, for everything" Katniss walked out of the room before he could say anything. Not that he was really even sure that he could.

They didn't really do the whole mushy-confession thing or the 'thank-you' thing, they kind of avoided that like vampires avoided wooden stakes. It wasn't like they sat down and decided not to talk about those things, the cards just kind of fell that way. Peeta didn't need to hear her say anything, her silent nods and smiles were all the reassurance that what he was doing was what she needed.

"Hey, Peeta, do you have a second?" a voice broke him from his musing and he looked up to find Percy Gallagher standing in the doorway to the cabin the set of pajamas that had been left out for her by the Avoxes on the train. Her tone was strong, but not in the same way it had been when she volunteered. Percy seemed to be more at ease, still frighteningly impossible to read, but her veil had slipped just a bit.

"Sure, come sit" Peeta said, motioning to the seat beside him. After a moment's hesitation, Percy came and sat next to him and gave him a look that told him that she meant business.

"I'm sure you know, but my mom's a quack. Thing is, she doesn't have anyone besides me and, well, if we're being quite frank here, I'm not sure who's going to win these games. I don't doubt that the Capitol has the interests of the nation in mind, but my mother does not. Should my death come in the arena, she will need to be sent—ahem—elsewhere. I'm not really sure where you send people like my mother, but I know there is somewhere. And that somewhere probably costs money; I want my father to pay for it. He always sends just enough money to pay for the little house we have and nothing more but he should have to put her up. It's only fair. Of course he won't know about what happened, at least I don't think he will, I've never met him, you don't have to tell him. I doubt he'll really care—I don't even know his name, but our land lady Ms. Figg, she should." He could tell just how hard it was for Percy to be saying any of this to him, the physical strain was evident in the lines on her forehead and the fidgety tendency of her hands.

Being from Town, Peeta didn't really understand the pride and stubbornness that the people of the Seam had but he did respect it. He knew that they wouldn't ask for help, or handouts, or pity. Percy wasn't doing that, she was asking him to make sure that the only family she had didn't rot in the house she would never live in again.

"I can do that," he said with a smile.

"Good, otherwise she might massacre the District" she said completely deadpan. He wasn't sure if she was joking or not, probably not all things considered.

"Anything else you need?" Peeta asked, expecting her to say no and head on back to her quarters to sleep (or just lay there, whichever the fates allowed). He remembered on his first trip to the Capitol, when he was sure that he was going to die in the arena, sleep was not a thing that could actually come to him.

"Actually, could you get this to Gale Hawthorne?" she handed him a letter, sealed inside a plain white envelope with 'GALE' written across the flap. "No matter what, I want him to have that"

"Of course" He held the envelope in his hands for a few seconds before telling her that she should go and get some rest before they got to the Capitol in the morning.

This girl was odd, that was a given considering her mother was the town crazy and the fact that she just up and volunteered for a kid she wasn't related to. Peeta just hoped that she could pull off a miracle and live. Maybe then Katniss would sober up for long enough to continue selling the 'power couple' act and keep Snow off his ass for all of thirty seconds. Peeta sometimes wondered if maybe Snow was secretly gay with a raging man crush on him and that was the real reason he called all the time inquiring about his relationship with Katniss.

Eh, it was possible, right?

**AN: Peeta and Katniss clearly need to have different ways to handle the Games because they had such different ways of playing the games. And Effie, I love Effie, but holy Moses is she difficult to write. Anyway, thanks for reading and, if you want, tell me what you thought. Next chapter we'll get a peak into Percy's past and visit Cinna. **


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: So first off, sorry for the delay in posting, I was a little lost for motivation but don't worry, it finally came. I'm so thankful for everyone that has reviewed and followed and favorited this story, it means so much to me. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter.**

Chapter Three

There had been quite a few tributes that sat in his chair and told him how scared they were. Cinna tried to be supportive (as supportive as you can be to a group of the doomed) but it hadn't helped that as the years passed, his survival rate continued to drop off. Of course, he knew they couldn't all win, but when you have a victor your first year as a stylist, just about anything seems possible.

Katniss was a different breed of tribute—one that only came along when the stars were just right—the rest were all weak and lacking. Cinna explicitly remembered one girl a few years ago who couldn't even sit still in the chair she was so jittery. Her legs looked like a pair of q-tips and her ribs were visible from any angle. The girl's hair was stringy and she cowered in her chair most of the time. The rest of her time with him, when she wasn't flinching away, was spent nervously scratching at her jagged collar bone.

Jan. Her name had been Jan. Her dad lost a leg in a mining incident and couldn't work anymore. Her mother died giving birth to her youngest brother and the only one supporting the family of five was her older brother, Zed. Before getting on the train, she hadn't eaten in a week and a half—having given up her morsels of whatever they could find to her little brothers.

There was no amount of makeup or extravagant clothing that could hide the pain she had been in. Even with the foundation and blush caked onto her gaunt face, her half smile that barely tugged at the corner of her mouth won her nothing from the crowd. The stunning floor length yellow dress he put her in just made her look sickly—even with the padding along the inside that he had added to give her a less emaciated presence.

Well, Jan died a few hours after the blood bath. A career, from Two if he remembered correctly, snapped her neck and stepped on her frail body as he led his pack further into the snow covered woods.

He didn't like to get too attached to his tributes but Jan had really pulled at his heartstrings. For the past two years, Cinna had been sending a bit of money to Jan's family to help them get by. In turn, all he asked for was that Jan's remaining brothers tell him what really happens out there in Twelve, so he could better understand his more recent tributes.

Now, just because he didn't like to get attached to his tributes, didn't mean that he was oblivious when one with a certain charm walked through his studio.

This girl—Percy Gallagher, as she so eloquently declared herself at the Reaping—had a presence that strictly screamed career. She sat with perfect posture and an almost real softness in her eyes as she waited in the chair for Cinna.

"My oh my, isn't this going to be fun?" he said as he walked toward the chair and picked up a few styling products.

"It's the Hunger Games. Need you even ask?" the girl said with a dazzling smile. She had a star quality that he had never seen in a District Twelve tribute before—one that made her memorable beyond her stunning red hair and blue eyes.

"You're quite chipper for a tribute" he remarked as he pulled a hand through her hair, thinking of what to do with this strange new tribute.

"Glad you think so" the happy inflection on her words had diminished, confirming what Cinna had originally thought when he saw this girl volunteer two days ago. Percy could play a crowd, she could wine and dine the entire Capital with a rehearsed smile, so perfect it looked nothing shy of natural, and charisma that radiated from her every pore.

Cinna didn't know if she was a fighter, if this girl could wield a sword or cold bloodedly kill someone, but she could make a nation fall in love with her—he was sure of it.

Hours later—after much tweezing and waxing—Cinna knew that he wanted to make this girl memorable. He wanted her to dazzle in front of the Capital citizens as they watched her that first time being pulled in the carriage.

Yet, there was nothing he could do. She would be dressed in fake flames and stand next to a slight boy wearing the same thing. Seven years ago, it had been eye catching and new—fresh—now, it was expected and over looked by just shy of everyone. Percy would be just another fallen tribute, and it would all be because he could do nothing to make her outshine the brute force and beauty of the career districts.

Percy didn't complain as he teased her hair into a more voluminous up do. She didn't complain when he started in on the makeup. In fact, the only time he even got a word out of her was when he ran his finger over the two inch scar between her sixth and seventh ribs, just below her heart. It was a jagged white line with pink edges that demanded attention while over powering the few other marks littering her torso.

"This looks like an interesting story" Cinna said and poked the center of the scar. Percy just laughed and easily nodded.

"Yes, quite interesting" she didn't elaborate, so he asked a leading question that equated to 'how did you get what looks like a poorly healed stab wound?'.

"Twelve isn't a walk in the park, Cinna"

"So this was done by a stranger then?" he asked as he took a few measurements to make sure the outfit would fit her. In all honesty, while Percy was thin she didn't have the emaciated appearance that Jan and a few of the other tributes of past years had presented. This year, he might not have to hide bony rib cages and knobby joints.

"Not at all. It was my mother, actually." She didn't elaborate any further, simply staring at her reflection in the mirror as Cinna continued to work her hair into something memorable.

This was sure going to be an interesting year. Somehow, he wasn't quite sure how yet, a Career Tribute had landed in District Twelve and was currently sitting in his styling chair. Effie had raved as they first walked into the studio that such well mannered and _charming_ tributes were exactly what she was trained to bring to the games.

Effie had passed up an offer to escort District Seven tributes a year or so ago, claiming that only "disgraceful hot heads like that Mason girl ever came out of there" and yet here she was fawning over their very own manipulating basket case.

Honestly, Cinna wasn't actually sure that the girl was crazy. She could have been trained by someone, a wayward Peacekeeper who took pity on the girl probably, and taught exactly the right things to say and the right things to do so she could win the game. Then again, she could just be stark raving mad like her mother.

The boys, Jan's brothers, had mentioned once in a letter the older Gallagher and her antics. According to them, she had once poured some flammable liquid over herself and attempted to light herself on fire in the town square screaming about how they were always watching, they had tried to kill her, meow meow meow. The Peacekeepers in Twelve didn't want to deal with the crazy woman and simply let Winnie's then sixteen year old daughter drag her time bomb of a mother away.

"Such a shame, I have _nothing_ new and exciting to dress you in. The flames will hardly make you memorable" Cinna said with a frown as he watched the girl's reaction in the mirror.

Percy didn't look worried, in fact she was smirking and had an almost playful expression in her eyes. Cinna had a feeling that this little statement wouldn't faze her, mostly because he had a sneaking suspicion that the girl had a plan so intricate that only a mind ravaged by the horrors Percy had encountered could craft.

"That's fine, I'd truly _hate_ for the other tributes to see me as any sort of threat to their sponsors. I don't think that would be very conducive to good sportsman like behavior, do you?" Cinna was at a loss for what to say next.

For a girl who dazzled so brilliantly, she sure seemed fine with the dull hand fate had dealt.

* * *

Six hours, countless beauty products, a few alterations and Percy was all set to go. He stayed with her as they loaded her up onto the carriage along with Jax—the boy still looked stringy, apparently Miffy hadn't been able to remedy that—before moving off to the side to take with Katniss.

Katniss Everdeen was, first and foremost, his favorite Tribute and his only Victor. She held a special place in his heart, even with her more, ahem, questionable life decisions recently. He knew that this was hard for her, carting these kids to their death each year, but he didn't necessarily approve of her vices. Haymitch had already proven that alcohol wasn't the best and the other, her choice of friends, wasn't exactly great either.

Once the chariots were all queued up and they were being escorted to their seats, Katniss's arm looped through his as Peeta led the group and Haymitch trailed somewhere behind them, he asked the one question he never had before.

"Do you think there's a chance?" he didn't look at her, too absorbed in his own thoughts to try and analyze her body language and facial features at the moment.

"I don't think she knows how to hunt, let alone kill another human being. Her bright smile and "Capitol knows best" attitude won't distract anyone from her inexperience when the scores come out. She's going to have a target painted on her back if the other Tributes think she's stealing their sponsors and they're going to out number her anyway." Katniss had many great points; Percy probably couldn't hunt, would be squeamish about killing, might have a target on her back, and would most likely die in the blood bath at the hands of that mountain of a boy from District One.

"So you're saying that the girl doesn't stand a chance in Hell?"

"I'm saying she has to win, because I can't bring two boxes home again" Cinna patted her hand as they sat down and waited for the parade to start.

The cheering began and out came the first chariot. Rya, a scarily pretty blonde, and The Mountain, I mean Cesar. Deidre, stoic and regal looking but could probably handle a sword better than the boy with her, and Drake, standard muscle covered bumbling buffoon Two always produced. Sira, an awkward girl who didn't look like she even knew how to smile properly, and Flint, who may have taken an extra upper or two before coming out. The rest were rather boring and not anything spectacular. Well, except for the boy from Seven, he could be trouble—there was real fire in his eyes, nothing like the illusion he dressed Percy in.

When Percy and Jax emerged Percy was, once again, a pillar of stoic pride and career like charisma. My god was he hoping that this wasn't just a show and the girl could actually survive in the arena.

Jax looked scared but far less so than many of the past tributes. That was probably something the boy could attribute to the person standing next to him, the remarkably at ease girl blowing kisses to the audience and waving at the cameras as they moved.

Cinna glanced at Katniss and noticed that she and Peeta had put on their costumes and were holding hands like the happy couple they were supposed to be. Everything would be so much easier if that were simply the truth.

As he watched his favorite girl, he watched as—just for a moment—the edge of her mouth pulled into the closest thing to a real smile he had seen in nearly two years. Her eyes, that's where the real give away was, her eyes swam with hope for just that fraction of a second and all the dreams of a better Katniss that Cinna had nearly given up on came bubbling to the surface.

Sure, that boy across the way, sitting with his fellow District Two victors, was a horrible person and not at all who Cinna wanted for Katniss. But if he could make her smile, forget the pain and suffering that the Games brought, who was he to protest?

All he knew for certain was that one, they needed this cocky wild card of a girl to pull off something amazing and two, he sure was glad that blond Cato boy had played in the 73rd Games rather than the 74th with Katniss. He wasn't really sure which of them would have been worse off if they had been in it together—the one who died or the one who had to live the rest of their life carrying children home in wooden boxes.

**AN: So yeah, Cato. What's up. Percy is still looking like a pretty solid tribute, amirite? Oh and do you like the whole switching perspective thing? Because I really think it gives you more insight into the games, like what it's like to watch them back home, what it's like to be a mentor for this bologna, and yeah that's kind of my intention. Anyway, I hope you liked it and if you want to, review, if you don't, that's okay. I'll try to have the next chapter out soon, thanks for reading this one.**


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